Heh, by “self-inflicted” I thought the OP might have meant “deliberately did to yourself.”
Worst thing: Broke my leg while riding my bike. Skidded on some gravel while turning around…BAM. That’s when I was almost 9.
When I was a senior in HS a glass decided it no longer wanted to be one with itself while I was washing it; 11 stitches.
I think Imunna start another thread in IMHO for the other one though.
Heh, by “self-inflicted” I thought the OP might have meant “deliberately did to yourself.”
Worst thing: Broke my leg while riding my bike. Skidded on some gravel while turning around…BAM. That’s when I was almost 9.
When I was a senior in HS a glass decided it no longer wanted to be one with itself while I was washing it; 11 stitches.
I have a few of the more common injuries:
Leaning back on my chair when I was 5 I grabbed the table to stop from falling backwards. Unfortunately this just made the table follow me and I gave myself an extra opening to my mouth, just below my nose (lovely row of stitches after they held me down to stick them in).
Skateboarding on a friend’s board I found that it only steered like a cow at low speeds - as soon as I sped up it decided to execute a nice sharp 90 degree turn. I continued on down the hill and went through my jeans to the bone on my knee - I was mortified that my Mum would kil me for ruining a pair of jeans…
My brother put a garden fork through my foot, but that’s not really self-inflicted. Irritating a friend, by tapping out of time, and making him stab me in my leg probably was.
Playing football (association) a couple of years ago I slipped on dew and fractured my wrist, but I waited until the next day before going to casualty since saturday evenings are murder, and I was just outside a pub (plus we still had plenty of daylight to continue play rounders, etc.). It didn’t help that my nurse-friend reckoned it was just dislocated and should be pushed back in place.
Ignoring various sprains, cuts and bruises my last (and best) injury was last March when I tried vaulting over a railing to the pavement 5 foot below on the other side. Unfortunately I caught my foot on the way and ended up diving face-first.
They pushed my cheek back out an inch and stuck a couple of plates in to mend it (thus earning me the honour of being referred to as Terminator every now and then). This, needless to say, meant I couldn’t take part in the musical 6 days later…
Fractured my ankle and broke my leg in two places by the simple expedient of standing on an ashtray I’d left lying on the middle of my living room. I’ve got a great scar and some nice metal pins to show for it.
I sit here typing with a broken arm and a fat lip. I moved this weekend, and in an impressive feat of strength, I lugged my armoire about 3/4 of the way down a flight of stairs. The feat became somewhat less impressive when I lost my balance, fell, and the armoire rode me down the stairs, driving my elbow into a doorknob. CRACK! Broken arm…
Same armoire, next day - the drawer was sticking, so of course, the obvious solution is to kneel in front of it and tug mightily, right? Wrong. Drawer comes fling out of the the armoire, smashing me directly in the face, busting my lip and loosening several teeth.
That armoire has is in for me, I swear.
"Twas summer, and the lightning bugs were doing that mating dance that we all love so well. The flicker of their little rear ends was enticing and I, like so many children of yore, decided that nothing would please me more than to catch some of them in a jar.
I found an old mayo jar and carefully screwed down the lid. “But how will they breathe,” asked my brother. “Why, I’ll punch several holes in the top!” I answered.
I proceeded to take a steak knife from the drawer in my right hand and put my left han around the neck of the jar to hold it steady. I was successful in punching a few holes in the jar lid, and then I punched a hole completely through the webbing between my thumb and index finger on my left hand. The knife went in the top of my hand and came out my palm. I recal seeing the knife sticking through my hand, but not a thing after that except having my hand wrapped in a bandage when I awoke in the hospital.
Quote my brother, ever the eloquent one, “Nice move, dipshit.”
I once tried to remove the last joint of my right ring finger with a can of chili. I can remember being quite hungry at the time…